


Fake It Till You Make It

by jyorraku



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cotyar (The Expanse) Lives, F/F, F/M, Fake Marriage, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28285272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyorraku/pseuds/jyorraku
Summary: In hindsight, he should have come up with a better plan before stealing a Martian Marine.
Relationships: Chrisjen Avasarala/Bobbie Draper, Chrisjen Avasarala/Cotyar, Chrisjen Avasarala/Cotyar/Bobbie Draper, Cotyar/Bobbie Draper
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Preface

"So, our stolen bride, what is she like?"

"Adorable, in that she can snap your neck with one hand kind of way."

"Interesting."

"...I don't need to know what you're into."

"That is a very disappointing approach to marital relations."


	2. For the Love of Cake

Coming up the well for the odd gig was a good way to provide cover for renewing his contacts in the Belt. 

It wasn’t as if he was looking for trouble. 

Sometimes trouble found him.

“Why the long face, Miss Mei?” Cotyar asked, more used seeing Dr. Meng’s daughter chomping down dinner while studiously doing her homework in the break room of the agriculture research facility. Meng’s overtime tendencies were legion but his agricultural research bore enough fruit that the company was taking potentially patent-able data security seriously with both in-house and independent security audits. Not to mention co-opting both UNN and MCRN patrols of the farms in the name of food security. Unfortunately this setup resulted in a very tedious job, having to go through the same motions just to confirm what they already knew. The headache inducing boredom made him antsy for any problem to solve, none were too small.

Mei peered up at him from break room table, her dinner spread out like scattered puzzle pieces next to her inactive homework terminal. She flattening her mouth until her bottom lip disappeared, as if she was trying to swallow the pout he had spotted. And yet like the graying hair on his head, the disgruntled lip only grew back with sullen vengeance.

His gaze flicked to a small sticker attached to her shirt collar. It was in the shape of a golden crown, so he guessed, “Is it your birthday?”

She moved the protein drink box round and round the noodles and sauce packets that made up her dinner. “Daddy said there would be cake.” However she placed them, her dinner items would not come together to constitute anything that could be described as cake. Hence the palatable disappointment.

Resisting the urge to ruffle the mopey child’s hair, Cotyar agreed whole-heartedly, “We should all be able to look forward to cake and eat it too.”

Sighing an all too adult sigh, Mei dumped the sauce packets into the noodles with one hand and punched up her homework with the other, giving in to the infamous absentmindedness of her father when it came to anything other than his plants. 

Would that the lack of cake be the extent of everyone’s problems. Cotyar chuckled softly, opening his hand terminal to skim through the local directory. Taking the long way back to his temporary office, he stopped by Dr. Meng’s with a reminder that the closest bakery was closing in thirty minutes.

The next day he caught the senior Meng hovering. By the dip of his brows, Cotyar gathered the botanist wasn’t waiting for an opportune moment to thank him. So with an eye on the clock, he finished his final batch of background checks and ambled toward the nearest alcohol purveyor.

A stool at the bar wasn’t his preferred choice of seating arrangements but if Meng needed the time and space to talk himself into finally spitting out whatever the hell he had on his mind, Cotyar could do his best to accommodate. He eyed the myriad of bottles that lined the shelves in front of him, his gaze tracking the hesitant shuffle of his stalker in the amber reflection of a Belter burbon. 

According to the personnel files, Meng was the chief botanist on the company farm, with bonafide plant whisperer credentials, so Cotyar doubted that all this cloak and daggering had anything to do with personnel issues Meng could easily delegate. Cotyar’s lips curved into the rounded edge of his untouched drink. Whistleblowers were among his favorite kinds of trouble.

Meng slid unobtrusively into the empty seat next to his. When the bartender swung by, he placed a half empty water bottle on the table. As the bartender refilled the bottle with liquid clarity, it became rather unbearable to wait for the taciturn man to get the show on the road. 

He swiveled around, feigning surprise. “Dr. Meng, how are ya?” Cotyar drawled with a hint of a boozy smile. 

“Mr. Ghazi,” Meng gave him a tiny nod, hunched over his bottle.

“We’re off the clock, call me Cotyar,” he said, sticking out a hand.

Meng straightened, turning to shake his hand. “Prax.”

“What bring you here, Prax?” Cotyar tipped his head at the man’s bottle. It obviously not for drinks.

Prax inhaled audibly before uttering, “I’m not sure this falls under your purview…”

“We’re on a first name basis, shooting the shit in a bar after work hours.” Cotyar smiled encouragingly at Prax, adding, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Prax’s shoulders lowered a fraction of an inch at that. “I think there’s some illegal activity going on in Sector 42.”

“That’s way out in the goonies, mostly zoned for long term warehousing of inert materials if I remember correctly." Cotyar worked to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "I’d be surprised if there wasn’t anything illegal going on.”

Undeterred, Prax continued. ”The farm unit we have out there is low yield, so it’s on an automated system with last priority for energy usage on that grid. That usually works out fine anyway since there isn’t supposed to be much activity going on.”

Cotyar nodded, getting the picture. “I’m not an engineer, but it sounds like there could be squatters in those warehouses. It's probably temporary." He shrugged for effect, not particularly enthused by the idea of kicking people off property that was often empty anyway.

Prax flicked a file to his terminal, opening to an image of shriveled leaves, browning stems. Worse than low yield. “By my calculations, they are doing more than squatting.”

Cotyar's eyebrows shot up at the readings. Right, not itinerants looking for a place to crash then, unless they brought a high processing computing unit with them. It was starting to fit into the usual pattern of pharmaceutical manufacturing of the illicit kind. “You haven’t reported this to local security,” he murmured, not as a question.

Shifting in his seat, Prax’s furrowed gaze lowered before he squared his jaw and lifted his eyes to meet Cotyar’s. The words came in a rush. “I checked. The warehouses are registered to my daughter’s doctor, Lawrence Strickland. He’s one of a very few people who can provide treatment for my daughter’s immune system disorder.” The rambling slowed, his fingers twisting into knots. “If Dr. Strickland gets in trouble over this, Mei would be...I would be...I...”

“Right,” Cotyar said, gently, “So we need to see if those people can be scared off and then convince Dr. Strickland to tighten his security or move his stuff.”

Prax perked up, his eyes gleaming.

Holding the back of his hand to his own head, Cotyar said, “I’m going to take a few days off, I feel like I’m coming down with something.”

“Do—do you need, um, want money--”

“Prax," Cotyar gripped Prax's hand on the table, forcing him to still. He knew the man didn't want to hear it, but it had to be said. "I need and want you to find another doctor who can treat Mei. Just in case, okay?”

Prax winced, but acceded, “Yes.”

Swinging off the stool, Cotyar clapped a firm hand on Prax’s right shoulder before moving to take off.

“Oh, wait!” Prax exclaimed, presenting him with a small container he had been carrying in a knapsack. 

Cotyar lifted the lid and grinned.

If he had known what was going to happen, he would have asked Prax for a bigger slice of cake.


End file.
